


Desperation

by the_13th_battalion



Series: Zygerria/Kadavo Chronicles [13]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Angst, Blood and Injury, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Mild Gore, Post-Zygerria Arc (Star Wars: Clone Wars), anakin is an idiot honestly, idk that's more of a precaution tag lol, kinda???, like honey please get help, oof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29585280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_13th_battalion/pseuds/the_13th_battalion
Summary: Anakin hides how badly he's hurt in favor of Obi-Wan getting help.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Series: Zygerria/Kadavo Chronicles [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2127948
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	Desperation

**Author's Note:**

> I got a febuwhump fic in today wooooo!!! Here's day 13, "hiding an injury"!!! It like...barely counts haha but anyway! I really like this one :) enjoy!

All Anakin could see was red.

He sat on the edge of Obi-Wan's bed with his gaze fixed on the floor. A pile of blood soaked rags held his attention, balled up and in varying shades of red. Blood coated his arms from his finger tips to his elbows. It soaked the front of his shirt and across the top of his thighs. Several thin trails smeared from his jaw down to his collar.

He didn't know how long it had taken himself and the Wolfpack medic, Threads, to clean and dress Obi-Wan's wounds. A glance at the chrono led him to believe it had been at least an hour. Threads had left only minutes ago, only after Anakin had promised to see him in the medbay later.

The private quarters had been a blessing when Anakin had tried to convince Obi-Wan to get medical attention, but now, the space was cold and dark.

Anakin shuddered in the silence. He wrapped his arms around his too thin ribs. None of the blood belonged to him, but his side burned where a vibroblade had struck him. In the moment, he hadn't felt it. When the adrenaline faded, when he began to relax, it began to ache.

He never mentioned it. He knew Threads had shot him pointed looks as they ran damp cloths across Obi-Wan's burnt and bloodied back. He knew that before the medic left, he wanted to push Anakin into the bed beside Obi-Wan and look for injuries. Still, he never mentioned his own pain. He refused to take Threads away from people who needed him.

Anakin could take care of it himself.

As he sat covered in Obi-Wan's blood, the task seemed terribly daunting.

He forced his rigid limbs to move. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan's forehead. Obi-Wan did not stir, but Anakin thought some of the lines on his face smoothed.

He bent, drawing in a sharp breath as pain lanced through his side, and gathered the bloody towels. The room spun as he straightened. His vision temporarily blackened. He made his way to the fresher, flicked on the light, and dumped the towels in the trash bin.

He turned on the sink. He gripped the edge of the counter. He stared at his reflection. He hardly recognized the sunken cheeks and deep, dark bags beneath his eyes.

He blinked. The light shone too harshly. It drove into his skull and blurred his vision- or perhaps that was the result of the pain radiating from his wound.

He tore his gaze away from his reflection and lifted his tunic. The sight of the charred, inflamed skin made him gag, which he found vaguely funny; he had seen wounds much worse. He had seen heads smashed in and brain matter scattered in the dirt, bones sticking straight out of torn flesh, burned innards spilling across bent armor turned red with blood. He had stopped vomiting at the sight of blood and gore a long time ago.

But the wound on his side brought him to his knees. He staggered to the toilet and threw up what little water was in his stomach. He dry heaved a few times afterwards, then he sagged against it, his head colliding with the rim.

He sobbed as the pain increased with the violent movement. He pressed his trembling hands against it. His breaths came shorter and faster. Sweat rolled in rivulets down his face and back.

It reminded him of Obi-Wan's blood. He could still smell its coppery tang from the trash bin. He vomited more empty air. His side burned. He curled inward as hot tears rolled down his cheeks.

"'bi-Wan," he whispered uselessly. Anakin knew he wouldn't answer. He had watched Threads administer the sedatives; he himself had approved the use of them. He might have laughed at himself if he didn't feel so awful.

In desperation, he still reached for Obi-Wan.

As he gradually lost consciousness, he saw a flash of brown robes at the door and heard a deep voice call his name. A cool, soothing hand on his cheek and a murmur in the Force sent him over the edge.

He sank into oblivion.


End file.
